


Blizzard Howls

by lechatnoir



Series: Blood Smiles and Alabaster Hearts [3]
Category: Spartacus Series (TV), Spartacus: War of the Damned
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-17
Updated: 2013-03-17
Packaged: 2017-12-05 13:37:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/723876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lechatnoir/pseuds/lechatnoir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spartacus fic-a-thon prompt: Saxa - Being the strong, independent, bisexual woman that she is. Holding her own in an argument with King Sparty maybe? Pairings are up to you if you feel the need.</p><p>In which the blizzard does the talking for them and it's as if there's a inferno rising inside of her as she storms into the tent where their King is, and she has half a mind to spit into his face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blizzard Howls

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kuriositet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuriositet/gifts).



i.  
She doesn’t mind the feel of another woman’s lips against her own – it is as natural as it is to eat away at a fruit or to stab a Roman in the throat. It is mechanical and graceless and a bit clumsy, but she laughs and flashes a grin because it is a kiss of greeting, of acquaintance.

(She remembers Mira with her long ebony hair and the olive skin, sinew strung arms that could kill at a moment’s notice with her bow and arrow. She remembers clawing and biting and fighting , the dust and dirt grits digging into their backs as they rolled together and the snarls and growls that they sent to each other with the jeers and laughter of the other rebels singing encouragements. )

She thinks back to a time where Vesuvius was but a strange word rolling on her tongue - _(she has yet to speak most of the Common Tongue) _, when Mira was standing next to her, laughing in glee as they take down a man together, almost dancing and she doesn’t object when Saxa grins and moves her so that their lips are brushing against each other and it feels like her blood is singing.__

__She remembers striking the first blow and snarling at the Romans who are surrounding them, circling them and hopping on their two feet, crowing of death and destruction when she swoops in and laughs, snarling at them and the blood that splatters her face is cold to the touch but it’s as if she’s fire- hot and an inferno to be conquered._ _

__(No one can conquer her. She says it herself, in five simple words – loud and clear as the sun and the sky on the bright day - _I rival any fucking man_ ) _ _

__ii._ _

__With Gannicus, it’s all trysts and something of a quest, a challenge._ _

__(She grins like a wolf and tackles him and it’s a mixture of kisses and a laughter that seems not to care and yet it fills the room with something like glee and joy and she can’t really put her finger on how she feels.)_ _

__They kiss and fuck and drink together and it’s something like forming a connection, a bond._ _

__(Perhaps that’s how they form bonds, back when they were dogs to the Romans, she thinks to herself in the early morning, when the sun has yet to rise and her side of the bed has grown cold, for she is up and sharpening her knives to ease her nerves.)_ _

__She knows she catches his eye, captures his attention, and she purrs in delight at making him beg and whine for more._ _

__(She thinks that she has done something of the impossible, conquering a ‘God of the Arena’, but she laughs and shakes her head and knows that there were many more before her.)_ _

__She is a hurricane of sorts, something that cannot be tamed, and he is a tornado of laughter and fucks and wine, something headstrong and volatile that changes at a moment’s notice._ _

__Surprisingly, they don’t need much to work off of each other, or be with each other, or others for that matter._ _

__(There’s enough wine to go around to make them dead from alcohol poisoning, but they share with the whores and those who are willing and perhaps there’s some shred of hope among their army of the damned.)_ _

__iii._ _

__She stays with those who she calls her brothers – stays with Agron and Donar as the Romans come falling from all sides and she’s baring her teeth and laughing as they fall and scream to their deaths, Pluto dragging their dead souls to the pits of the after-life, where they’ll burn for all eternity for the chains and collars that they had once placed on her throat, had tried to break her, tried to scare her into submitting and crying like a pathetic weak thing._ _

__(She has known the taste of salt-water and the sting of a lashing, and the ever – heavy burden of a metal collar, dragging not only her body but her soul as well)_ _

__(She vows to herself - _Never again_ and she plans to go down snarling if it comes to it, but then Agron yells to retreat and her feet are carrying her back to the center of the city, where Spartacus is and she thinks that she can barely breathe – _it’s as if there’s a volcano erupting in her lungs_ until she reaches the designated place and she sees him, the man upon the hill, the leader, their ‘King’ and she feels safe, if for a split second.) _ _

__iv._ _

__They move, and they are trapped, and she curses as she prowls around the camp, knives never leaving her side._ _

__She knows Gannicus and the girl - _Sibyl_ , she murmurs to herself – have some sort of bond , some sort of connection. She doesn’t mind, doesn’t care._ _

__(There’s a seed of bitterness lodged in her throat but she washes it down with a hymn that Da had taught her when she was a little girl and the wolves came out in the night, and she, Saxa, was scared.)_ _

__She worries as the snow and wind howl, like wolves in their own right, and there is no sign of either Gannicus or the girl, and she breaks into a run because there isn’t any way that she can just keep on walking, not if she doesn’t freeze to death beforehand._ _

__She finds their ‘King’ in a tent, shivering and it’s as if his skull is about to dance out from beneath his skin, with how his teeth are chattering._ _

__He’s ordered them all to move and she panics because there’s no sight of Gannicus or Sibyl and she thinks that perhaps she even _cares_ for the child, in a small sort of way._ _

__The words are jumbled as they escape her mouth but he hears and listens to her as she grabs his arm – “Where is Gannicus?”_ _

__He tells her to wait, that he will go and find him but she won’t back down – she’s a she-wolf in her own right but she realizes that he’s right, for now._ _

__(Instead, she nods and he gives her a reassuring squeeze before moving to brave the monster that is the blizzard.)_ _

__v.  
They fill the trench with the bodies of the dead and she is viper’s venom and unsheathed daggers as she storms into the tent where their ‘King’ is, King Spartacus, leading them all to their deaths, all plots and strategies and it’s as if he’s blinded by his own pride that he doesn’t see how fucked they all are._ _

__“You lay the dead as if they are worthless shit to walk upon in order to win against Romans “_ _

__“I do what I must to see that all are free “_ _

__“Free? Are we to be like Donar? Carved upon and crucified by the Romans for entertainment? We need to fight, to bear teeth and claws and to help those who are starving and dying.”_ _

__“Donar’s death was an unfortunate thing, something that will be repaid with by Roman blood”_ _

__“By shit’s blood you mean. Donar died a warrior, but are we to die like cowards, have our skins skinned off of us to be worn like pelts by the fucks called Romans?”_ _

__His faces clouds and it’s as if she has torn something from him, hit a nerve or a wound or something - _it was only earlier today that he had heard of how many lay dead at his feet_ \- and she has half a mind to clench her knives and lunge forward, hissing and snarling but something holds her back , and she watches instead. _ _

__He turns to her and she sees the turmoil that clashes like a raging storm on his face, but he only shakes his head and nods._ _

__It’s enough for her to growl and he doesn’t expect her to lunge at him, but she does, and he has barely enough time to grab her wrists and bark out “Have you lost fucking mind!?” and she laughs instead, glaring at him as she writhes and moves and she doesn’t like it at all, feeling trapped and captured._ _

__“I lost no fucking mind, only gained it. All should be of use to the army – women, children – we must arm everyone or teach those who cannot fight how to protect, how to heal. There are too many who are idle and who pray. Their prayers only get them sent to the afterlife”_ _

__“You speak as if we have all the time in the world.”_ _

__“You do _nothing_ but plan plan plan and attack, but wonder why so many lay dead at your feet, _King_ Spartacus”_ _

__She snarls and has half a mind to spit in his face, but there's a flash of _reason_ flickering across his face, so instead he nods and releases her, leaving her breathing heavily and she slowly lowers her knives. _ _

__“You are right, Saxa. Apologies. I will take word as counsel. See to it that I do not forget.”_ _

__He grins at her and she punches him in the shoulder and it is as if they are two wolves fighting for kicks and tumbling for the sake of it, but there’s a sense of trust._ _

__He holds out his forearm and she looks at him puzzled before it clicks and she grins at him, clasping it with her hand and his hand is warm against her skin._ _

__“Do not forget your promise.” She mutters, eyes hard as steel and lip curling in a snarl and he nods, solemn and serious as the wind howls outside the tent, and she pulls the fur pelt around her for warmth, yet she feels as if her blood is singing sleepily and that is enough to keep her going in this damned fight to the bitter end._ _

__(Spartacus knows that she is right, knows that perhaps, he has to open his ear to words of counsel that do not come from Agron, or Crixus, or Gannicus himself)_ _

__“I will have you to beat it into me if I do forget, Saxa.”_ _

__She figures it is a start, for their forces to slowly regroup and reform, to emerge as a monster to take down Rome and those who choose to chain and shackle everyone who tries to yearn for freedom in the darkest of nights._ _

__(A man can lead and conquer, but a woman can do twice the damage and squeeze the life out of your throat with a flick of her wrist without even trying.)_ _


End file.
